Hi! It's all the fault of Liuchixiang Culture and the owner of Xingweizhai for making people want to go home in such a busy late autumn.
Early in the morning on the 27th, under the gloomy sky, I got on the bus bound for Wanghe with Tongcong literary friends in the city hall square. The two buses were full and full of laughter.
Monitor Baochun said: Let’s go!
The car drove slowly along the Tongqian County Road. The road became steeper as it went west. The mountain road was winding and smoke was curling up. Along the way, literary friends marveled at the miraculous craftsmanship of nature in Tongxi Township.
The autumn tour route is consistent with Zhaizhu’s article. It passes through Huangpu and ends at Xiangyang.
Erzi’s home is in Xiangyang. Over the years, Erzi and I have run back and forth on this mountain road countless times. We know every ditch and ravine clearly. In response to the praises of literary friends, I will My heart smiles.
Yes, it is indeed beautiful.
The car turned left at Hei'ao Ridge and entered the concrete road leading to Wanghe. The literary friends were laughing, but I was a little absent-minded.
In the mountains in October, there seem to be sweet-scented osmanthus blooming, and there is a pleasant fragrance in the air.
This is a gathering of literary friends jointly created by Gujing Gongjiu and Liuchixiang Culture, which includes essay competition, awards, and autumn outings. I am included in it, just to make up for it.
Well, the prize was awarded to the Gujing Essay Competition, and I didn’t write it; the one I was swimming in was the beautiful autumn of Wanghe River, but I had to come.
I am a painter who came from Wanghe. I have known the culture of Liuchixiang for three years, and I have known the owner of the restaurant for three years. Although she grew up in Wanghe, her understanding of her is less than one-tenth of the master's.
As the car was walking, the Hefan Dagu Stone and Longjinggou Waterfall described by classmate Qiang Jian were in sight. Due to weather conditions, the Longjinggou Waterfall that used to sing has quietly passed away, leaving only the reason why it has dried up. The pale stone is exposed, glowing helplessly white.
The Beichong River at the foot of the mountain winds its way from the deep mountains of Tangwan, flowing through Hefan, then around Longshan and Wuzui, and merges into the Guniubei Reservoir.
Sitting in the car, the mountains of Longshan moved with the movement of the car, and the rolling ridge of Longshan became vivid in my eyes.
The first time I saw it was when my aunt and I went to Tangwan Medicinal Materials Station to sell peach stones. Along the way, my aunt vividly introduced the dragon head, longan, dragon's back and longjing ditch. The magic of the legend made me forget to walk. of fatigue.
In front of the Wanghe Laoliang Station, the southward river turned along the foot of the mountain and headed east. At this bend, the river forms a deep pool. The water is clear and blue, and the swimming fish and shrimps are clearly visible against the pebbles.
I have memories here. When I was studying in Wanghe Junior High School, I especially loved this pool. I was always attracted by it and was greedy for its clearness. Often after lunch, without telling the teacher, I would gather my friends and go into the water secretly, either diving to the bottom or digging with dogs. Some brave people jumped from the top of the stone wall more than ten feet high, splashing with waves, and our faces also bloomed with joy.
Children are innocent and have great fun. When they are proud, they forget their form. Foam splashes in the small pool, white waves fly, and the joy of the moment overflows the entire river beach.
Finally, one time, my class teacher, Mr. Zhu, caught me naked while riding back to school. Fortunately, everyone was united and did not reveal the team leader. We all had to stand at the edge of the playground for half a class in small pants with our heads above the scorching sun. The girls passing by covered their faces and laughed.
The car drove smoothly. I sat in the car and walked while thinking, and the corners of my mouth unconsciously raised.
Now the deep pool is still there, but the laughter is dim.
The Wanghe Junior High School where I studied was located on the hillside behind Wuzui. General Mao Wanbiao, the commander-in-chief of the Hainan Wenchang Space Launch, was still studying hard here, quietly hoarding knowledge and energy for the future aerospace industry of the motherland. Also compose a song of youth for yourself.
The township government was hundreds of meters away from the junior high school. The general’s father worked in the township government at that time. I followed the general’s brother into and out of that mysterious courtyard with gray bricks and gray tiles.
There, in a thin book of "Chairman Mao's Poems", I memorized "Bu Suanzi·Yong Mei" and "Die Lianhua·Reply to Li Shuyi", and "asked questions" in "Wind and Rain Send Spring Return" What does Wu Gang have?"
The car drove across the Wuzui Bridge, and the Fangjia River was to the north of the township government compound. The owner said that this river used to be called "Guanzhu River" and flowed down from Xiangyang Village singing happy songs. , the village by the river is called Xiaohezhuang.
When I was in school, I really didn’t know that the small river was once called "Guanzhu River". There was no bridge. There were stones the size of millstones placed at equal distances in the river. The surface of the stones had been polished smooth and round by the river water over the years. .
There is plenty of rain in spring and summer, and from time to time a heavy rain forces us to suspend classes and go home early. The teachers separated themselves in small groups and picked up and dropped off students from one place to another. The weak students were all carried across the river by the teachers. I am small, but I have also enjoyed this treatment. Watching the torrent rolling and rolling under my feet, I closed my eyes and dared not open them. I lay on the teacher's generous back and felt warm in my heart.
It is cold in winter, and the surface of the stone will freeze and become slippery, so be careful every time you walk over it.
Later, a small cement bridge was built upstream of the stone pier, which greatly improved the pain of crossing the river for pedestrians. Later, the policy of benefiting farmers benefited every village, and a new highway bridge was built over the Guanzhu River. Villagers who went out could drive their cars directly to their homes. What a joy!
I walked through Xiaohezhuang twice in the past few years, and the happiness was evident on the faces of the villagers in Xiaohezhuang. The big willow tree at the head of the bridge also stretched out its long branches, greeting and sending off pedestrians with a smile. Villagers occasionally come and go on the small cement bridge, but there seem to be fewer millstones in the river.
On the mountain to the west of Xiaohe Village, there is a famous person "Fang Dongshu" hidden. When I was young, I came and went to study. I often heard adults talk about him, but I didn't know how famous he was. I only found out a few things by looking at Baidu entries.
Fang Dongshu, a native of Tongcheng, Anhui Province, has been reading poetry and books since he was a child, but he is similar to me in taking exams. He always falls behind and is unsatisfactory. Later, he became angry and turned around to devote himself to education, "preaching, teaching, and solving doubts" for many students. He often said to his disciples: "Students do not farm or weave, but they have rice to eat and clothes to wear, so they cannot help but feel guilty. Only by reading clearly, writing diligently, writing books and sayings to repay society, and serving the people, can we feel guilty. "Heart."
Fang Dongshu was lucky enough to study, but was not destined to be an official. Later, he stayed at home and watched the invasion of foreign powers. The letter was written with a lot of words but was not taken seriously, and ended up giving up. He was a writer and famous thinker in the mid-Qing Dynasty.
A scholar who cared deeply about the country and the people was buried in Wanghe, but he never had the opportunity to pay a visit.
In the southbound car, Xiaohezhuang Highway looks like a white belt floating straight up, and the quiet Liyugou has lost its former bustle due to drought.
Further up, there is the boundary of Sansong, named Sansong. It is said that it was named after three tall pine trees.
The owner said that the cemetery of Machichang is in Sansong.
There is a family named Ma in Sansong. The family is honest and responsible. The eldest son, who was my childhood classmate, must be a descendant of the Ma family, and he stayed to look after the Ma family's Xiangtang.
Du Niang explained: Ma Qichang, a famous writer and scholar in the late Qing Dynasty and the early Republic of China, came from a family of calligraphy and calligraphy, and was smart and eager to learn. Because he failed to pass the provincial examination in his early years, he had no intention of pursuing an official career. He was enthusiastic about education in his hometown and took "cultivating talents who can help the world" as his own responsibility.
Ma Qichang suffered from paralysis in his later years and his hair on his temples turned white, but he was still meticulous in his studies. After his death, Ma Qichang was buried in Sansong.
Sansong Village is not big, and most people have the surname Wang. The folk customs in the village are simple and the relations between the neighbors are harmonious. It was here that my brother-in-law moved into his aunt's house. When I was a child, I often traveled across the mountains and ridges to my uncle's house to play with my cousins. There was a pond in the village, as horizontal as a mirror, with water as green as blue, which mirrored the joy of my childhood. For decades, the uncle and aunt treated each other as guests and never blushed.
As the car continued southbound, the Wanghe Village Committee sign was in sight. Before arriving at the village headquarters, we first saw the Wu Ancestral Hall located on the hillside to the west of the road. It was truly stunning, majestic and gorgeous, with big red balloons hanging high above the venue, taking the celebration to a new level.
This is a grand and majestic work built by the village sage Mr. Wu Chao and his clan members. It is both the Wu family ancestral hall and the trailer mountain historical exhibition hall.
We came here by chance today, just in time for the opening of the exhibition hall. The opening ceremony was grand and the speeches were inspiring. In the square, the flying fireworks carried the enthusiasm of Wanghe people, and the ground was covered with auspicious colors.
In the exhibition hall, the owner of the restaurant who lived in Wanghe explained the humanities, history and geographical features of Guoche Mountain to everyone in a magnetic baritone, facing the wall full of pictures.
Onlookers listened intently, fearing they would miss it.
The master of the restaurant is a person I admire. He is erudite, studious and good at learning. He can tell allusions related to it with just a few keywords, and he has countless treasures in his words. Just watching him talk is a pleasure.
I was browsing the Zhaizhu’s text on my mobile phone. It turns out that Yao Yonggai’s “Xishan Jingshe” is at the foot of the new ancestral hall. A little north of the “Xishan Jingshe” is the old ancestral hall of the Wu family, with the river Retreating far away, the red and green vegetation covers the passing years.
When the Yao brothers moved from the city, they worked hard here and studied hard, determined to achieve great things. When I'm tired, I go out to see the mountains and rivers. When I'm thirsty, I make a cup of flower tea. Morning and night, eight years at a glance, it's a pleasure.
I went to Tan Hsiang Temple with Team A, and the weather cleared up. Miss Ziyuan gave me a loudspeaker on the way, hoping to explain the origin of Tanxiang Temple.
To be honest, I'm going to make a fool of myself.
Tanxiang Temple is diagonally opposite my house, backed by Fangjia Dayin Mountain, with beautiful forest ravines and gurgling streams.
The first time I came here was when I was in junior high school and the school organization came to move wood. The wood was used by Tanxiang Temple to expand its scale, but the superiors did not approve it, so all the wood was transported back to Wanghe Junior High School to build the school building.
At that time, we, who were young, were like a swarm of swarms, laughing and joking along the way. The noise broke the tranquility of the mountains, and crows and magpies flew everywhere. Only temples, Buddhist caves, and tall pines and cypresses accommodate our childishness.
Later I went out to make a living, and only came here once or twice before and after the Spring Festival, either for a short time or for hope. Tan Hsiang Temple gradually stayed in my memory.
In addition to reporting place names, tree names, flowers and plants, what else can I say?
Fortunately, the first-time writers were fascinated by the scenery in front of them. The distant water, nearby mountains, tidal flats, and stranded fishing boats were all captured by the camera, as if they didn't care about my embarrassment.
The sun was shining softly, and I led them to walk between Tanxiang Temple and White Pagoda.
The rivers and ditches in the mountains have dried up, and the scattered boulders are standing next to each other, quietly looking at our group of uninvited guests.
The temple door is open, but there is no one there. On the contrary, our arrival made the Buddhist hall come alive.
Kowtow, worship, and be absolutely sincere.
Outside the hall, literary friends were chirping like little birds, pointing here and there, their eyes full of joy.
The Buddha Cave and White Pagoda are at the highest point of Tanxiang Temple. The legendary longan well in the cave has also dried up. Legend is no match for reality, it’s just that this year’s drought is approaching.
Standing in front of the White Pagoda and looking around, you can see the mountains in the distance and the vast expanse of blue water.
Across the water, Zhang Bingwen’s cemetery is within easy reach. In order to prevent the invasion of the Qing Dynasty, this loyal and loyal Duke of the Ming Dynasty sacrificed his life for the country without waiting for reinforcements in Jinan City. His wives and concubines also threw themselves into the Daming Lake to show their loyalty. Descendants carried the coffin thousands of miles back to their hometown and were buried at the foot of the trailer mountain.
In the 1960s, the slogans of a specific era resounded in the sky, and the ignorant ZFP bombed their tombs and destroyed their loyal bones. It's shocking that the good and honest Mr. Zhonglie was innocently killed by this murder.
It was not until 2007 that Zhang Bingwen’s cemetery was rebuilt and opened to the public. At this moment, there is a gentle breeze, green mountains and green waters, white clouds, blue sky and bright sun. It is time for Duke Zhonglie to rest in peace.
My grandma’s house is near Zhang Bingwen’s cemetery, and my grandpa is a descendant of the Zhang family. I have never met my grandparents, and no one even told me about my grandfather’s grave. The tribesmen said that no monument was erected back then, and the tomb had long been filled in with soil. My mother was orphaned at the age of eight and could not remember her parents.
Regret is always there.
As a young child, I carried my schoolbag and skipped past the cemetery of my ancestors. I came and went with joy and no worries.
Looking further east, the "Jule Pavilion" proudly faces the water.
I once wrote about this pavilion, and the writing on the pavilion was in the handwriting of Mr. Mao Bozhou. The gentleman is erudite and has taught and educated countless people throughout his life. He has students all over the world and is admired by others.
Fortunately, the old man’s son, Teacher Mao Bingying, is also in the Liuchixiang Cultural Writers Group. He is amiable, approachable, versatile, and versatile.
He went through all the trouble and drove thousands of miles home for this autumn outing. Not to mention that he didn’t think the painter was stupid, so he took my hand and introduced me to his old mother. Mother Mao, who has silver hair, sharp ears and eyes, and a strong spirit, kept thanking me. Her words of thanks included Mr. Mao in her words.
Yes, I admire Mr. Mao, I admire people as knowledgeable as him, and I also love this pavilion with Mr. Mao’s handwriting.
I remember those years when I returned from wandering in other places, my mother would run to the ferry pavilion to wait for the boat to pick me up. Joy was like a green river, embracing one wave after another. My mother stood in front of the pavilion, and I stood in front of the pavilion. On the deck.
But now, there is a short tomb between her and me. My mother is inside and I am outside...
As I watched and thought about it, the corners of my eyes felt moist.
The sound of the gold medal calling back at the foot of the mountain came, and the literary friends laughed and reluctantly turned back.
Hi! It’s all the fault of Liuchixiang Culture and that restaurant owner. Such a busy late autumn makes people homesick...